


died in my dreams

by MTrash (Makaria)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, M/M, and tendou is a menace, flying motorcycles and bad food all around, minor character deaths (before the start of the story), ushijima is an agent coping with his past, who can't cook for shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-25 12:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7532326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makaria/pseuds/MTrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>If anyone asked Ushijima how it came to this, he wouldn’t be able to formulate a proper answer.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Ushijima likes his quiet, his order, and his solitude. </p><p>That is, until a loud, talkative and a little chaotic cyber tech convinces him that that's just plain <i>boring</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	died in my dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaiyou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiyou/gifts).



> ...since this is my first time participating in such a grand gift exchange, I have no idea what one writes at the beginning.
> 
> In the Dear Creator letter of my lovely recipient I saw UshiTen and SF (and cyberpunk) and I immediately fitted the two into an AU I basically thought up as I went, and boy, do I hope it turned out somewhat readable, haha.
> 
> I HOPE YOU LIKE IT, DEAR! <3

ACCESS CLEARANCE: Level 3 [HIGHLY CLASSIFIED]

OPERATION CODE NAME: Night Eagle  
LOCATION: Harbor District  
START TIME: 0155 hours  
DURATION: 73 minutes

CASUALTIES:

O[redacted] R[redacted], sharpshooter: _deceased_  
G[redacted] T[redacted], infantry: _deceased_  
S[redacted] E[redacted], infantry, strategist: _deceased_  
Y[redacted] H[redacted], explosives specialist: _deceased_

SURVIVORS:

U[redacted] W[redacted], captain: _demoted, pending psychological evaluation_

DETAILED REPORT

* * *

His apartment is on the smaller side: a living room, a tiny kitchen, a bathroom and a bedroom barely big enough to fit a king sized futon on the floor, with a hanging punching bag. Sparsely furnished and bare, colorless, it reflects simplicity and order.

Ushijima likes when everything is in its place, organized. He especially enjoys the calming corner by the window of the living room, with a yoga mat and no less than four small potted plants lined up on the window sill.

Every morning before his shift he stretches and meditates there, trying not to dwell too long on the past.

(Every morning he’s getting better at forgetting.)

* * *

He takes his hoverbike to work, still.

He solves cases and captures criminals.

He eats at the cafeteria every day, by himself.

He works at home, too.

Apart from yoga, he exercises regularly to maintain his peak physical condition.

He does his best to move on.

(It’s been over a year.)

* * *

The nightmares are thinning out. Sometimes, they’re just whispers, wisps of charcoal smoke in the back of his sleeping mind.

_Wakatoshi…_

His name, his former title, or phrases that were directed at him throughout his career, simple ones, orders from the many field missions.

_Roger that, Captain._

_Spread out._

_Cover us._

The voices are all known to him; each and every one forever etched in Ushijima’s subconscious. 

When they are calm and collected, talking to him as they had, once, when they were still alive, Ushijima wakes up quietly, a quickened breath the only indication of his restless dream.

But when they are screaming, staticy and torn with fear of imminent death, when they are asking for backup, for help, when he himself is shouting for retreat - that’s when Ushijima’s mind lurches violently back to reality.

He’d sit up in his cramped bedroom, panting, T-shirt clinging to his chest and muscles tense, ready to protect a unit that no longer exists. The men who are no longer there.

(The yoga helps. Sometimes.)

* * *

He doesn’t mind being alone.

* * *

Considering everything, life is going as smoothly as possible. 

With only one, small, inconvenience. 

At the present moment, Ushijima doesn’t have an assigned tech to support him. As a field agent, he is supposed to be paired up with a tech in the Cyber Division to be his ‘eyes’ in the field, and yet his previous tech quit in favor of a better paid job. Ushijima has been working alone for the past eleven days.

He hopes that the Captain will resolve this quickly enough and assign a suitable partner for him.

* * *

As far as the job itself goes, paperwork is the most boring part, if he’s being honest with himself. Ushijima prefers action, intrigue, connecting the dots of a case to that one, only, logical solution. The thrill of the chase in his veins and fire in his chest as he tracks down a suspect, subdues them and brings them back to the station in handcuffs.

But paperwork is essential for successfully closing a case; leaving a neat, organized record of facts for the court system to use at its leisure and put the perpetrator behind bars for good.

However uninteresting it is compared to being in the field, Ushijima respects the necessity of it. The structure it represents in his line of work.

It’s a funny word, though, _paperwork_ , Ushijima thinks as he reads off the holographic screen at his desk; a vertical, transparent surface of light, peppered with neon words, numbers and options, not resembling paper in the least.

 **Suspect name:**  
**Age:**  
**Blood type:**  
**Fingerprint file:**  
**Enhancements:**

It’s almost midnight, the sky inky black and skyscrapers lit up on the other side of the window. Ushijima is tired. 

He endures, filling out the blank spaces of the form with slow, steady fingers, in his corner of the open plan office. He doesn’t let his exhaustion show, despite the fact that only two of his colleagues remain at their desks this late in the shift.

One of them is frustrated, sighing loudly in the quiet. Ushijima knows him from passing, a tech from the Cyber Division, for some reason not at his designated station one floor above, but here, among the field agents, expressing his annoyance with his fingers fisted in his hair. 

Ushijima doesn’t pay him much attention. He wants to complete the remaining files and go home, rest before his early shift next morning.

He’s in the middle of typing out his detailed report of what happened earlier that evening, during the apprehension of the main suspect in a murder investigation, when he hears… singing. 

Muffled, and at first he can’t tell where it’s coming from, until there’s a distinct _ping!_ of the elevator and the singing becomes louder, coming down the hallway to the desk area.

“I told you to shut it, already!” someone says.

“Aw, I’m sorry, Mr. Policeman, detective, sir,” someone else says mockingly, their sing-song voice carrying over to where Ushijima is sitting. “But today’s a happy day! One that you will always remember as the day that you almost- Didn’t you see that movie? Really old one, about pirates?” The person laughs loudly. “ _You will always remember this as the day you almost caught-_ ”

Two people emerge from the hallway, one uniformed police officer dragging a young man with flaming red hair sticking up in every direction, his hands cuffed in front of him.

“Oh, heeeeey, there are still some people here!” the arrestee croons, breaking into a wide, blinding grin. “Burning the midnight oil, eh? I thought cops didn’t work after sundown!”

Ushijima does his best to ignore both of them.

The uniformed officer shoves the redhead into a chair by one of the desks and sits behind it, a holographic screen lighting up at once.

“Name?” he says, bringing up a form much like the one Ushijima had filled in not fifteen minutes ago.

The redhead ignores the question. “Kinda dark in here, isn’t it?” 

Out of the corner of his eye Ushijima sees the criminal (for why else would he have been brought to the police station in handcuffs, if he weren’t a criminal) looking around the admittedly dimly lit space, curious, absorbing. “Government taking piss poor care of its employees and their eyesight.”

“ _Name_ ,” the officer repeats more firmly.

“Tendou,” The redhead answers, gaze still wandering, everywhere else but on the one who had brought him in. “Oh look,” he says, zoning in on the tech who’s still showing clear signs of frustration, whatever code he isn’t able to work through wide open on his own screen. “Little bunny’s trying to learn how to code. Cute.”

No one spares Tendou a second glance. The tech in question doesn’t even hear him, probably.

Ushijima is meticulously typing out the exact events that unfolded in the arrest.

“Age,” the officer asks again.

“25,” Tendou replies and then he leans forward in his seat, towards the tech. “Y’know,” he starts cheerily. “It might help if you weren’t so _nervous_.” He snickers at his own joke and the tech shoots him a venomous glare. “Just saying.” Tendou leans back, hands raised in a placating gesture, wrists still cuffed together. “It’s a 14-layered encryption with a backtracking server and possibly a decoy IP and _it can sense fear_.” 

The tech snorts. “How could you possibly know it has a backtracking server?” he asks condescendingly, eyes trained on his work.

“Because, my little bunny hop,” Tendou starts, before he breaks into a wide, wolfish grin. “I made it.”

The tech’s fingers halt mid-air. He turns to stare at Tendou. The officer who brought him in stares at Tendou. Ushijima pauses in his typing, and Tendou is positively _glowing_. “ _Whoop_ , didn’t see that one coming, did ya?”

“What?” The tech’s voice strains with disbelief.

Tendou shrugs.

“Whosever profile you’re trying to get in, you should know that it will take you… Hm.” He squints in ostensible thought. “Approximately 347 years.” All eyes are still on him and he smiles. “I know my tech, kid.”

 _Kid._ The tech is at least 10 years older than Tendou. 

He and the officer exchange looks and, before either of them speaks, the officer is on his feet and heading towards the Captain’s office.

* * *

Rumor has it that Tendou is talented. That he navigates the complex universes of code, cybernetics, and data encryption as though they were planted in his own backyard.

Rumor has it that he got tired of his previous employment, and is looking to start afresh.

(Ushijima never cared much about rumors. He doesn’t think much about the new arrival at the office.)

* * *

Until, at least, five work days and a truckload of paperwork later (not least of which included pardoning Tendou for a myriad of cybercrime offenses he was wanted for), Tendou Satori is hired as one of the many tech guys in the Cyber Division.

And Ushijima gets his new partner.

(No, this isn’t a suitable one. 

Now that he’s in Ushijima’s immediate vicinity, he has many thoughts about him. Tendou’s a _criminal_ , for crying out loud. Ushijima will file a complaint.)

* * *

His place in the cafeteria is in the corner by the window, bright and solitary, quiet; just the way he likes it. His colleagues are always a few tables away, laughing over their food trays and joking around between sips of synthetic orange juice. 

They are used to Ushijima’s isolation. He is used to their cheery echoes in the large sunlit space, half a floor cleared for the police officers to have their meals. They don’t bother each other. 

Ushijima slowly unwraps the straw of his juice box and pokes it in the right place, leaving it in the corner of the tray to use a blunt, plastic knife to diagonally cut his tuna sandwich in two. There is a leaf of green salad in it today, and it isn’t as dry as usual. Though the bread still tastes like cardboard.

Internally, he’s going over his assignments for the day, he’s wondering if his current line of investigation will lead to anywhere; he makes a mental note to speak with the Captain when he returns from lunch break-

A loud _CLATTER!_ snaps him out of his thoughts and Ushijima looks up. 

The new guy, Tendou, still his designated tech because Ushijima didn’t have the time to draft a formal letter of complaint, dropped his own tray ungraciously on the table. He grins at Ushijima widely, _too widely_ , as he settles down on the bench across from him.

Without even asking.

“Don’t play well with the other kids?” Tendou asks, eyes bright, looking directly at Ushijima. He glances at the nearest group of policemen, who seem not to notice that someone is actually talking to Ushijima. _Joining his table._ “Or… the other kids don’t play well with you?”

Ushijima doesn’t respond. He’s taken aback, both at the fact that someone willingly took a seat at his table, even though he doesn’t need company (or want it), and at the fact that this someone is… _him_. 

Ushijima doesn’t let it show.

“The strong, silent type, huh?” Tendou grins again, and takes a bite of his own sandwich. “That’s cool,” he says when he swallows. “I’m Tendou Satori.” He offers a hand over their food.

Ushijima glances down at it, then back up, at a pair of smiling, brown eyes.

“You’re a criminal,” he states calmly, bluntly. There’s no need to beat around the bush; it’s for the best if all of Ushijima’s animosity towards his new (temporary) work partner is out in the open.

Tendou’s eyebrows raise in confusion, his hand lingering in the air. “And… you don’t shake hands with criminals?” 

“That’s right.”

“Because…?”

“Because we’re on the opposite sides of the law. I work to catch those like you and put them away. For good.”

“That simple, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Wow, talk about needing a touch of grey in that black and white…”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Tendou muses, finally giving up on the handshake and picking up his sandwich again. “So, not gonna shake hands with your new partner, huh?”

“We’re not partners.”

Tendou takes a bite and waves his free hand, speaking with his mouth full, “Because I’m a criminal.”

“Correct.”

He swallows, grins at Ushijima. “How about talking with me, then? Is there some kind of a rule against that?”

Ushijima pauses. “These aren’t _rules_ -”

“Just your personal way of looking at things?” 

“Yes.”

“But it seems to me that the general partnerwork guideline suggests that a field agent - you - should take the time to get to know and _bond_ with their tech - me - as they would be working together through many cases, even some life threatening situations,” Tendou recites. “I know this, because I read it last night.”

Tendou is right. That is, almost word for word, what is written in the rule book. Field agents and their techs work closely day in and day out in situations of varying degrees of danger, and it is almost essential for them to have a good, solid relationship in order to maximise both of their skills.

Ushijima never had a problem with that, before. Professional and courteous as always, he never failed to maintain a proper, recommended level of familiarity with his tech. 

Until today.

“We’re not partners,” Ushijima repeats.

“You see, you keep saying that, but that doesn’t make it any less true.”

“I’m going to file a complaint.”

“And they’ll tell you to stick it where the sun don’t shine. ...not that it shines anywhere anymore, but you get what I mean.”

Ushijima doesn’t falter. “I’m the best in the division. I only deserve to be paired up with the best-”

He doesn’t even get to finish the sentence before Tendou theatrically spreads his arms and gestures to himself.

“ _Ta- ta- taaaaaaa…!_ ” he sing-songs. “I am the best cyber tech in your station. Hell, probably in all of the city.”

“You have a criminal record-”

“-expunged.”

“You arrived at the station in handcuffs-”

“-semantics.”

“You were only hired because of your ability to break through the encryption you yourself implemented around the most guarded secrets of some of the most powerful mob bosses in our region.”

 _The best_ , Tendou mouths, unnervingly still pointing to himself. 

“Why did you do it? Why did you accept this job?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Tendou smiles innocently. “Are we on speaking terms or not?”

Ushijima doesn’t say anything more. He clenches his jaw and tears through the rest of his sandwich in frustrated silence. He finishes off his juice and doesn’t spare a second look at Tendou when he leaves the table.

* * *

That evening, he submits his letter. 

It’s a good letter, with carefully outlined points why someone like Tendou can’t be trusted and why Ushijima deserves to have a better tech by his side. (He’s never asked for allowances before.)

He gets an immediate, negative, reply. The excuse is that the station is severely understaffed and Tendou _is_ , as he said so himself (more than once), the best the department has to offer, even with the circumstances of his hire taken into account.

The Captain has full confidence that someone of Ushijima’s caliber will be able to both keep an eye on Tendou, _and_ find a way to work with him.

Ushijima takes his exasperation out on the punching bag hanging in his bedroom.

* * *

Fine, officially, they are paired up together. No one says they actually have to _work_ together. It sounds tedious, but Ushijima is sure he can get used to operating alone in the field. He’s been doing it for almost two weeks now, anyway.

* * *

Though the next day at lunch, Tendou is at his table again. Ushijima shoots him a glare, and then resolves to not lift his gaze from his food for the rest of the meal. 

“So, this city,” Tendou begins. “Kinda wild, huh? I mean, when you look at it from this side. The ‘lawful’ side.” He adds in the air quotes. “I didn’t go out that much and who knew that it was so… _alive_ , and kinda crowded, but not in a bad way, and-”

Even though Ushijima gives no indication that he’s following the monologue, or replies in any way, Tendou’s voice is light and conversational and he’s not deterred in the least; talking about the tall buildings, the mess of the hover traffic, how he has trouble sleeping because of all the noise and the lights, how he’s already in trouble for not putting in enough work hours, but it’s not his fault that he’s intimately familiar with cyberspace and doesn’t require as much time as other techs to do what needs to be done…

Ushijima tries to ignore the noise. He doesn’t say a word, and Tendou flashes him a grin after he finishes the last of his sandwich and tells him he’ll be seeing Ushijima tomorrow at lunch again, if not sooner.

* * *

In fact, every lunch break that week Tendou spends at Ushijima’s table. He talks, and Ushijima does his best not to listen, determinedly unresponsive.

(He does hear a snippet or two, against his own will.)

(Tendou isn’t stupid, for all of his questionable morals and untrustworthiness, and unlimited chatting. At least that’s something.)

* * *

It’s not easy, working by himself in the field. 

The terrain Ushijima navigates, the buildings and the neighborhoods, are laced with trap doors, hidden hallways, unknown passageways and other hindrances, most operated digitally from a distance.

With a tech to keep track of all of those, and override the controls from time to time, Ushijima could focus solely on hunting down the target. 

_Without_ a tech, Ushijima’s homework has doubled, as he tries to memorize entire layouts of buildings whenever he can, even though he doesn’t always have the luxury of knowing where the investigation will take him.

He sleeps less. 

(Which is okay, because he dreams less that way, too.)

* * *

He’s chasing a suspect on foot. It’s near-dark in the narrow hallways of the building, between the walls of peeling paint and dim lights above him; a gritty, run-down structure on the edge of the station’s jurisdiction, in a poor, dangerous neighborhood.

The guy is right in front of him, faster and lighter than Ushijima, familiar with the surroundings. He cuts corners without warning, weaves through the labyrinth of the building, corridors and staircases, and even leaps over a barrier to drop two floors below - Ushijima follows him without hesitation.

He lands roughly on the concrete, his feet and ankles throbbing. The suspect is still ahead, sprinting, and Ushijima grits his teeth and takes off after him again, all the while calculating.

It’s a matter of who loses the endurance race first; Ushijima is impeccably trained and so far he has barely broken a sweat, but the other guy seems to be used to this kind of thing as well, and Ushijima can’t risk falling behind. 

He’ll need to find a way around, block the suspect’s path.

A voice purrs into his left ear, “Having trouble?”

“No,” Ushijima replies shortly, still running, the suspect still at more than an arm’s length away from him. 

“Kinda looks like you do,” Tendou says through the comm. (Ushijima wouldn’t have taken the small earpiece, but it’s standard field equipment and he respects the rules.) “Kinda looks like you’ve been chasing this guy for almost half an hour.”

Of course that Tendou sees everything on his holographic screen, safely tucked in at his workspace back at the station. A small part of Ushijima is surprised that he’s actually following Ushijima’s movements in the field, as any tech would do with their assigned agent, even though they have never spoken about actually working together. 

...or spoken, in general.

“I’ll catch him,” Ushijima says, because it’s true. He will. Sooner or later.

The suspect turns a corner three seconds before Ushijima, long enough for Ushijima to suddenly find himself in a clearing, surrounded by faceless concrete walls and three branching corridors, no moving shadow in sight.

He swallows the curse in his throat.

“Ooooooh, whatcha gonna do now?” Tendou is not helping.

Ushijima thinks, his breathing fast and heart racing from the run, and he wishes he could remember the blueprint of the building he’d studied last night.

Tendou whispers, “He went down the middle.”

On reflex Ushijima starts towards the middle corridor, but Tendou continues, “But! If you take the left one, you’ll be able to cut him off because - _oh,_ what a shame - one of the doors he planned on escaping through is unexpectedly locked.” He sniggers, obviously having been the one to remotely lock the said door.

Ushijima grits his teeth. He doesn’t like it; he doesn’t like Tendou meddling, he doesn’t like cooperating with him, he- 

-has no other options at the moment. 

Ushijima follows Tendou’s guidance.

Sure enough, not a couple of minutes into the left corridor, a shape blocks Ushijima’s path, shorter and skinnier than him, startled at his presence, and Ushijima slams the suspect against a wall, twists his arm behind his back and fastens on the handcuffs without any trouble.

It’s when he’s escorting him back to the police hovercar that Tendou speaks again, through a smile it sounds like, “Say it.”

Ushijima doesn’t reply.

“Saaaaaaay it.”

Ushijima sighs. “Thank you,” he says, reluctantly.

Tendou _did_ , in fact, help. Even though Ushijima didn’t ask for it.

“SUCCESS!” Tendou screeches and nearly perforates Ushijima’s eardrum through the comm.

* * *

Tendou is not completely useless as field support.

Rather the opposite, Ushijma has to admit after a particularly messy crime scene, where a lot of delicate evidence had to be processed in a short amount of time, and Tendou fed the information to Ushijima’s earpiece fluently and flawlessly (even if with an occasional _whoop!_ or _how curious..._ ), cutting Ushijima’s time at the scene in half, at least.

He is good tech support.

He is, in fact, the best tech support Ushijima has ever had. 

He still doesn’t like it, though.

* * *

“Hey, Wakatoshi.”

Tendou has started calling him by his given name. Ushijima doesn’t react, continues munching on his rubbery cucumber salad.

Tendou’s smiling widely at him and holding up a bagel, round and almost resembling an edible pastry, today’s cafeteria special.

“What kind of a bagel can fly?” he asks.

Ushijima blinks, disinterested.

“A _plain_ bagel.” Tendou barks out a laugh and slaps his free hand against the table surface, nearly knocking over Ushijima’s juice box. “Gettit?”

Ushijima does get it. It’s funny, in a dumb kind of way, and for a fraction of a second he feels a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

He squashes it.

* * *

“Hey, Wakatoshi, what do you call a beginner beekeeper? A _newbee_.” 

Bees are almost extinct. 

But Ushijima still finds the bad pun funny, and Tendou emits a loud snort followed by laughter, which is of the contagious kind, the sort of uninhibited merriment that rings in the air, warm and encompassing-

Ushijima actively fights the urge to join in.

* * *

One Friday, lunch time is almost over and he barely makes it. Witness questioning went on for longer than it should have, and most of the food in the cafeteria is already gone. 

Ushijima throws his tray onto his usual table, disgruntled that all that’s left of food is a chewy soy burger and a spoonful of soggy, undercooked rice. At least he’s managed to snag one of the last juice boxes, which tastes like it might’ve, once, been in contact with real fruit. (Though it wasn’t, everyone knows that.)

Tendou is finishing up, having been sitting alone until Ushijima showed up. Truly alone, as everyone else in their shift either ate and left, or didn’t eat at all. The two of them are the last ones in the cafeteria.

“So, like, what do you think of those cybernetic pets?” Tendou begins, as usual. He doesn’t wait for an answer as he chews on the last of his tuna sandwich. Ushijima had wanted a tuna sandwich. “I mean, I guess they’re kinda neat, for like… company and such. They don’t have to be fed or treated for illnesses, and it’s kind of nice, having someone to wait for you at home, no?”

Maybe. Ushijima never thought about the idea. He doesn’t mind living alone.

“Expensive though…” Tendou mutters. “Not really life-like, either? I thought pets were supposed to be cute and cuddly and not all… _mechanical_.”

They are supposed to be cute and cuddly. Or at least useful, protective and strong. Ushijima might’ve wanted a dog, in a different world, when real dogs were still a thing. A doberman, he thinks the breed was called. Elegant, graceful, but fierce. He would’ve liked that one.

It takes a moment for him to realize that Tendou has fallen silent. It takes him one more to look up and see the other narrowing his eyes at him, evaluating. _Thinking._

The straw from Tendou’s juice box is between his teeth and he speaks over it, “You used to be a Captain.”

It wasn’t a question. Ushijima’s heart pounds in his chest, and he doesn’t look away. He doesn’t ask how Tendou knows this.

“Yes,” he says, voice steady in a way that he isn’t. “I used to be a Captain.”

Tendou’s eyes gleam almost red in the direct sunlight, matching his perpetually spiked hair as he slurps noisily through the straw, absorbing this.

“Okay,” he says finally. Simply. He doesn’t ask what happened, he doesn’t insist on hearing the details, just continues his elaborate opinions on cybernetic animal companions.

Ushijima swallows the bile that oozed its way up his throat. He breathes out, long and inaudible, and returns to his miserable lunch.

* * *

Whatever Tendou knows about Ushijima’s past, from whatever source he might have found out about it, it doesn’t change his attitude towards Ushijima at all.

And Ushijima is grateful for that, at least. He isn’t sure why, but the uninhibited, carefree way that Tendou speaks to him feels… Pleasant.

Ushijima still barely replies, but he listens. He observes. And it’s nice.

* * *

“Hey, Wakatoshi, what does a snowman say while looking at the sunrise? Nothing, he’s so touched he’s gonna _melt_.”

It hasn’t snowed in years. Ushijima can’t remember what cold feels like, anymore. 

But he can’t help the touch of enjoyment as Tendou throws his head back and laughs, loud and honest, at their table.

* * *

Ushijima brings his work home because there’s not much else to do when he’s off duty, and when he doesn’t have a whole lot going on in his life. He likes it; keeps him focused. Occupies his mind for long periods of time.

He’s sitting on the floor, legs comfortably folded underneath the low coffee table and a holographic screen flickering in front of him, filled with photographs of crime scenes, autopsy reports, forensic evidence and suspect profiles… Ushijima’s mind is deep in the workings of that particular case, busy with theories and connections, trying to find the link, the damning proof - when there’s a knock at his door.

It’s dark outside, 9:21 p.m. according to the clock in the corner of the screen. Ushijima isn’t expecting any visitors.

Whoever it is knocks again, insistent, and Ushijima stands up, tightens the strings of his sweatpants and patts barefoot to the door. 

There is nothing but a mess of red hair through the peephole. Ushijima barely unlocks the door before Tendou barges in, grinning and breathless, like he’s been running.

“Finally, Wakatoshi, I thought I’d have to pick the lock or something.” He ventures further into the apartment as he talks, _without permission_ , takes off his leather jacket and throws it haphazardly onto the sofa. “Nice place. Kinda bleak; might use a bit more color. Fits you, though.” 

Tendou is standing in Ushijima’s living room and Ushijima has no idea what’s going on.

“Oh, hey, you’re working! Even on your time off, wow, I never would’ve guessed that.” The wink is the only indication that Tendou is joking. Sarcasm, right.

“This is classified,” Ushijima says cooly, finally closing the front door and moving to turn off the screen. “You are not allowed to see it. You’re not even allowed- How do you know where I live?”

“Funny word, _classified_.” Tendou muses as he throws himself backwards onto the sofa and makes himself comfortable. “Never really understood the meaning.”

Ushijima frowns. “It means that you don’t have the clearance to-” 

Tendou’s grin widens, if that’s even possible, and Ushijima realizes he’s joking again.

“You looked through my file,” Ushijima says calmly. It’s the only logical explanation about Tendou knowing both of his past title and of his current living address.

“I might’ve.”

“And why are you here?”

Tendou shrugs. “Was bored. Thought I might drop by and see what my good friend Wakatoshi is doing.”

“We are not friends-”

But Tendou lets out a delighted _ooooooooh_ as his inquisitive gaze lands on the window sill of the living room and he’s on his feet again, coming closer to the neat line of potted plants.

“Nice holograms!” he exclaims, reaching for them. “They look so real.”

“They’re not-”

Tendou yelps and jumps back, wide eyes on the small cactus he touched. “THEY’RE NOT A HOLOGRAM.” 

Ushijima sees a drop of red blooming from the tip of Tendou’s index finger. He lets out a suffering sigh. “They’re not a hologram,” he repeats flatly, before he turns to the bathroom down the hall to fetch some band aids.

As he’s rummaging through the medicine cabinet, Tendou seems to recover from his mild shock and prick of a cactus needle, and is back to his rambling in the living room.

“You actually have _real, live_ plants in your home, Wakatoshi!” He whistles. “How strange. They’re so… _green_. Is that their natural color or was it genetically modified?”

“Natural color.”

“What’s this stuff inside the pots?”

“Earth. They need it to survive.” Ushijima finally digs out the squashed box of half used band-aids and closes the medicine cabinet.

“They _eat dirt_?”

“They feed on the minerals and nutrients in the soil,” he says, returning to Tendou, whose finger is now between his lips, wide eyes still on the plants.

Ushijima stops in his tracks. He stares, at the finger, at the lips wrapped around it; he can’t stop the staring, and his mouth is suddenly dry. 

Tendou looks at him earnestly. “What do they _do_?”

“Nothing,” Ushijima replies. He blinks away the momentary daze and steps closer, reaching for Tendou’s hand, noticeably more slender, narrower than Ushijima’s broad palm. Tendou allows it. “They just… Live. Grow.”

Ushijima uses his teeth to rip open the band-aid and applies it around Tendou’s finger as quickly and as precisely as possible, minimizing the amount of time they stand so close to each other. 

Tendou is almost as tall as him. 

He smells nice.

“Why do you keep them?” Also, his questions are seemingly endless.

“Because I like them,” Ushijima says. He lets go of Tendou’s hand and glances at the two small succulents, one lush fern and one peace lily, with a few long, oval, snow white leaves among the green, almost resembling flowers. Ushijima would’ve liked flowers, maybe. “They’re nice.” 

Out of the corner of his eye he catches Tendou watching him, but when he turns Tendou springs back towards the sofa and drops onto it once again, declaring that they should _watch a movie or something._

“I’m not subscribed to the movie network,” Ushijima tells him. He never needed it.

Tendou groans. “Seriously, Toshi, you need to learn to live a little.”

(No one ever called him by a nickname before. It’s not an unpleasant feeling.)

* * *

If anyone asked Ushijima how it came to this, he wouldn’t be able to formulate a proper answer. 

He’s sitting on his couch, with Tendou right next to him, and they’re watching a movie. For the fourth time this week. His holographic screen is actually hooked to the movie network. (And the sports, news, cooking and gardening ones… for free. Tendou played with the wires and Ushijima pretended not to have noticed it. He’s not proud of himself.)

And Tendou likes old movies, those from the 2000s, 2010s… Silly, over-dramatic pieces from the time when real people were still hired as actors.

He comes to Ushijima’s apartment unannounced every time, brings snacks with him; bags of unhealthy sweets or chips, a packet of Ushijima’s favorite juice boxes. 

Sometimes, they talk about work. Mostly not. Mostly Tendou talks about unimportant things. Ushijima doesn’t ask about Tendou’s history, and Tendou doesn’t ask about his. (Though he probably knows a lot about it, already.)

They watch the movies in silence, save for the occasional snort and laugh from Tendou, louder in the confined space of Ushijima’s living room than in the cafeteria. 

Whenever Tendou leaves, Ushijima can’t remember his apartment being _that_ quiet.

* * *

“You’re missing the key point here,” Tendou says in Ushijima’s left ear.

“I’m not,” Ushijima replies, turning around the victim’s living room, giving the crime scene one last look before he heads back to the station. “There was no sign of forced entry and we found two sets of DNA. The victim’s wife is left handed and his son is right handed. The camera feed in the evidence clearly shows a right handed murderer.”

“And while you are usually so very wise, oh Great One,” Tendou mocks, “this time you’re wrong.”

Ushijima sighs in frustration. “Okay, what am I missing?”

“Where is the camera?”

Ushijima’s in the middle of the room, and he looks to his right, at a shelf with various knick-knacks and a collection of porcelain turtles neatly arranged on it. “There,” he says, knowing that Tendou sees it through his screen. 

“Okay. And what did it capture?”

“The murder, taking place in the middle of the room, right in front of it.”

Tendou makes a loud, jarring noise over the comm, causing a temporary ring in Ushijima’s head. God, he misses the quiet sometimes. “Wrong answer, dearest Toshi. The murder was out of the turtle-camera range.”

“But we have its recording, it clearly shows…” As he talks Ushijima turns around, gaze passing over the bloodstain on the carpet and landing on… a wide mirror, on the opposite side of the turtle-shelf. “A _reflection_ of the murder.”

“Bingo!”

“The murderer is left handed,” Ushijima says. He’s only a little upset that he missed this, a little more pleased that his tech caught it before they made a huge mistake and arrested the wrong person. He waves over the nearest officer and gives him instructions.

“Good work, Tendou,” he says, automatically, when the officer retreats.

There’s silence on the other end. And then, “Holy shit, I can’t believe you said that. I’m gonna set it as my ringtone.”

Ushijima has never wanted to take his words back more. 

* * *

This one is a good movie. It’s for kids, an animation, and not a bad one considering how long ago it was made. Something with dragons and vikings and Ushijima likes the dragon that sets itself on fire. Tendou, of course, likes the one named _Toothless_ , because _he’s so cute, look at him, Toshi, he’s like a cat!_

In the bluish flicker of the screen, they are relaxed into Ushijima’s sofa, surrounded by snacks and sodas. 

Tendou lets out a tired sigh and slides sideways, rests his cheek on Ushijima’s shoulder. Casually, as though it is the most natural thing in the world, to lean into your work partner like that. A bag of triangle-shaped candy in all colors lodges itself between them and Ushijima doesn’t dare move.

Tendou is _warm_ , much too warm, and soft against Ushijima’s side. He blinks slowly a couple of times, before his eyes finally drift shut and he dozes off. 

Ushijima doesn’t remember the last time he’d been in physical contact with someone for this long. This peacefully even, when it wasn’t a sparring partner for hand to hand combat, or a criminal he had to take down.

His heart is beating out of control. He can’t focus on the plot of the movie anymore. Tendou breathes slow and steady next to him and it’s all Ushijima is aware of. The closeness, the warmth, the coziness… Ushijima feels like he’d been granted something he never even knew he needed.

He doesn’t wake Tendou up. It’s been a long day, anyway, and they need their rest. 

* * *

He’s running, like every time before that. It feels real - his muscles burn, his breaths are coming out in white puffs, and his lungs sting, filling with ice-

It’s cold.

It can’t be real, then.

But he’s still running, away from something, or towards something; he can’t tell. The voices are there, again, in his head. Semi and Goshiki and Reon and- 

They’re laughing. Happy. They insisted on taking their Captain out to drinks before their big mission. They had fun, that evening.

Someone screams. Ushijima whirls around, eyes frantically searching for the source in the darkness. 

The chill in the air seeps into his very bones, and he shivers.

He can’t find them.

Someone screams again, a shrill sound ripping through the emptiness around him and Ushijima’s heart hammers against his chest - he has to find them. Something is wrong, they shouldn’t have been here, they-

_“CAPTAIN, FALL BACK!”_

No, he can’t fall back, not when his men are still in ther-

The explosion is sudden, earth-shattering, and it blinds Ushijima, makes him shut his eyes under the forceful heatwave, the stench of tar-

Ushijima wakes with a start, sits up, breathless. It takes him seconds to recognize his surroundings, to realize that he’s not back at the harbor, that he’s not even in his bedroom, but in the living room… On the sofa, where he must’ve fallen asleep last night, during the movie.

He wills his heartbeat to settle, runs a shaky hand through his damp hair. 

_Just a dream. Just another nightmare. Breathe…_

_One, two, three-_

A soft _clank_ makes him jump again, and look up.

Tendou is there, watching him from the kitchen doorway, bright eyes observing Ushijima’s sweat stained shirt, his uneven breathing. Ushijima stares back, not sure what to say, or do, not sure if Tendou realized he was having a nightmare, if Tendou knows how regularly it happens…

And then Tendou smiles, in a subdued way, unlike his usual wide, blinding grins; in a way that makes him look kind. He motions to a skillet sizzling on the stove. “Eggs?”

Ushijima nods in silence, before he stands and walks to the bathroom to make himself presentable, to dry out his nightmare-soaked thoughts.

(Tendou is a terrible cook. He laughs about it without restraint though, as Ushijima throws away the attempt at breakfast and sets about to prepare them another, far more nutritious meal. One he’d seen on the cooking network.)

(He doesn’t think about the dream all that much. It’s easier, when Tendou talks non-stop about something else entirely all the way to the station. When he spreads his arms wide on either side, settled in behind Ushijima on the hoverbike, and sings some unrecognizable song, voice muffled by his helmet.

...when he gives up on pretending to fly as they zigzag through the hovertraffic and he holds Ushijima firmly around the waist until they reach the police building.)

* * *

Tendou lets out a huff. “This is horrible, Toshi.”

Ushijima is bent at the waist, his eyes closed, palms planted firmly on the yoga mat in front of him. He feels the stretch all the way down the back of his legs. “No one forced you to do this with me.”

“I wanted to see what the fuss was about.”

“And?” He focuses on breathing, in and out, slowly, even though the conversation is throwing him off a bit. This is the first time he’s doing yoga with company.

As much as Tendou trying to mimic his poses on the hard floor beside him, not outfitted for yoga at all in his jeans and T-shirt, can be considered _company_.

“And it’s pure torture,” Tendou says, voice strained. It isn’t even a complicated stretch. “You say you do this every morning? How even.”

Ushijima can’t hold back the trace of a smile on his lips. His face is pressed into his knees and he’s sure Tendou doesn’t see it.

* * *

The movie is over and the screen zaps to a lone bright blue dot hovering in the air before it dissolves, encasing Ushijima’s living room in darkness. The interior glows faintly with the lights from the neighboring skyscrapers.

A vehicle honks as it zooms by the window, and Tendou flinches, Ushijima feeling every startled muscle in his body where he’s leaning into Ushijima’s side, head resting on Ushijima’s chest.

Tendou’s hair is tickling his chin, and again Ushijima isn’t sure how it got to this.

Half a year ago he was alone, and completely fine with it. Alone at work, with only a formal, cordial relationship with his former tech, and alone at home, with more of his work, his exercise and his four plants. (Tendou has already named them, after characters from some ancient book series. _Harry, Ron and Hermione… And that one’s Draco_ , he referred to the cactus he’d hurt himself on, _because he’s a prick._ )

And now Ushijima isn’t, alone. Not at work, where Tendou is always with him, singing in his ear, whispering bad puns or being absolutely unhelpful if it isn’t a serious situation. And apparently not at home either, where Ushijima is now lying on his sofa with Tendou half on top of him, sleeping and sometimes stirring at the noise from outside.

Ushijima wonders what made Tendou so sensitive to sudden lights. Sounds. 

He wonders when he started wondering.

When he started noticing… All of it.

The way Tendou’s eyes burn bright when there’s a chocolate treat in the cafeteria. The one barely noticeable dimple on the right of his lips when Tendou smiles openly and honestly. His long fingers, so fast and nimble over the screens, the keyboards… His broad shoulders and leaner frame, uncharacteristically strong for a tech who doesn’t spend time in the field. The way his voice drops low when he’s teasing…

A _bang!_ from outside and Tendou jumps in his sleep again, pressing himself closer into Ushijima, and there’s heat. The quiet, simmering heat in Ushijima’s gut, body aware of every single point of contact between him and Tendou, his arm around Tendou’s shoulders and the wonderful, flowery scent of Tendou’s hair…

Ushijima knows where all of this is going. He has been there before, once, and he knows it’s not smart, he-

He wonders how Tendou would react if he tried to kiss him.

* * *

The gun is heavy in his hands. Not his usual piece, a service pistol standardly issued for all field agents, but a two-hand submachine gun, semi-automatic, solid under his gloved fingers as he creeps through the halls.

“So I was thinking maybe I could try this new recipe next time I come over?” Tendou whispers into his ear, as though making himself stealthy as well, keeping as quiet as possible over the comm.

It’s unfair, Ushijima thinks, talking about experimenting in his kitchen when Ushijima can’t reply. 

He edges forward in the dark, narrow hallway lined with doors, some opened and some not, checking each room for hostile presence, gun aimed in front of him.

“It’s like… It’s like pasta, but it also has this cocktail thing that goes with it. I dunno if I’ll get the seafood though… Do you like seafood? Maybe I could substitute it with chicken or something.” Ushijima doesn’t care so much about the ingredients themselves; he’s sure that Tendou will find a way to make the meal unappetizing, no matter how hard he tries. “I think they have chicken on Tuesdays in that corner place… Y’know the one on the 117th floor? Oh, and you’re about to meet up with a colleague to your right. Don’t shoot.”

Just as Tendou whispers it Ushijima catches sight of the colleague in question in one of the rooms. His sharp eyes are alert, hair dark and spiked, and he’s decked out in the same tactical gear as Ushijima is, identical gun in his hands. Iwaizumi, Ushijima thinks his name is. 

They exchange curt nods before they proceed forward, parallel to one another as Iwaizumi walks through the desolate rooms and Ushijima remains in the hall.

“But anyway, alcohol won’t be difficult to get,” Tendou continues. “I know you have sugar and I suppose I could mix in that orange juice you chug down like there’s no tomorrow…”

Ushijima wonders if Iwaizumi has ever had to deal with a chatty tech who talks recipes, chicken and alcohol in the middle of a high-stakes mission to uncover a wanted criminal’s hide-out.

The lights are few, dim, and far between, but the night vision screen over his left eye helps Ushijima keep track of his colleague moving forward along with him, searching for any signs of life. There are five of them in the building, each with a tech of their own monitoring their actions from the safety of their offices.

There is no Captain, this time. There are orders, and communication, but this isn’t a cohesive unit; just five of the best field agents the force has to offer for the task, strategically spread out and making their way towards-

“And I was thinking we can watch that new movie then, y’know, the one about some weird aliens, because I figure you might be bored with the oldies- Hold on,” Tendou cuts himself off. “Something’s not right.”

Ushijima pauses, muscles tensing in apprehension. He can’t use his voice to say anything, and he prays to whoever is listening that Tendou gets on with-

“You’re facing a dead end. That’s strange…” 

Iwaizumi has already walked ahead of Ushijima and Ushijima figures a dead end isn’t a good enough reason for him to stop; they will at least clear this side of the building, and then turn back to help the others if necessary. He continues forward.

“I’m looking at the blueprints now. They’re incomplete,” Tendou says. “But it seems like…”

Ushijima waits patiently for what it seems like, still attentive to his surroundings, searching for any potential proof of the criminal they’re after.

“Uh-oh.”

Ushijima grits his teeth not to ask _what the fuck that means, what uh-oh, Tendou, I’m kind of in the middle of a stealthy approach and you can’t just-_

There is no dead end; Tendou was wrong. The hallway opens wide into a space, a room, circular and vast, poorly lit with yellow, stale bulbs hanging from the ceiling. It has no windows - they are most likely in the dead center of the building.

Ushijima cautiously steps in, surveying the overturned furniture, the bare stone walls, but there are no occupants; no people moving around except for Iwaizumi emerging into the same space beside him, quickly followed by the other three agents from their respective paths.

“What the hell?” Iwaizumi echoes everyone’s thoughts.

But Tendou has answers, and this time he speaks into Ushijima’s ear seriously and urgently. “Wakatoshi, listen to me. You’re in a section of the building that I can’t see on the map. You need to get out, _right now_. I’m detecting a lot of suspicious activity, including someone apparently attempting to break the connect-”

Tendou’s voice cuts off. The lights blink once and then die out. 

As the first shots of gunfire erupt in the darkness, Ushijima grips his weapon with both hands, and realizes they walked right into a trap.

* * *

“Shit shit shit shit shit shit…” It’s not in Tendou’s blood to keep quiet. Especially not when something as fucked up as this mission is happening. “Shit shit fuck fucking shit fuck…”

He sprints through the hallways of the police station, waving his ID card in front of scanners and leaping through doorways, sliding across the sleek floor. People throw themselves out of his way until he finally stops in front of the door he was going for, wheezing.

There’s a uniformed police officer standing in front of it; a guard.

“I- need- to- get in,” Tendou huffs out, doubling over to catch his breath. Man he shouldn’t have had that second helping of chocolate pudding for lunch.

“Permission form,” the guard requests cooly.

Tendou shakes his head. “No form. Need- inside- now.”

“You need to have a signed permission form to access the mainframe hub of the police network. File a request with your supervis-” The guard’s words break off when Tendou jams a fist into his stomach, knocking the air out of him.

“Sorry, no time to get the form,” he says airily, letting the officer slide down the wall. “Life or death and all that.”

For good measure Tendou knocks the guard out, careful not to dislocate his jaw, and wastes as few precious seconds as possible to use his handcuffs and fasten his wrists behind his back. He helps himself to the key card of the mainframe hub room and enters without problems.

“Come on, come on…” Tendou works fast. He’s used to the intricate mess of wires, to gutted computers and exposed machinery which seemingly makes no logical sense. For years he’s been in contact with nothing but that.

The familiarity helps to ignore the flood of fear through his veins.

He disconnects some cables from the mountain of hardware that is the main police server, attaches them to his portable device, the one he made himself in his free time, and flicks on its small holographic screen.

His brain is hyperaware, calculating, recalling bits of code as his fingers dance over the screen. His heart is pounding hard and fast in his throat.

Tendou crouches in the room, between blinking lights of all colors, between wire frameworks of a computerized beast, and sets about to break whatever (and whoever) had disrupted his connection with Ushijima earlier. 

He only hopes that he makes it in time.

He doesn’t- 

He _can’t_ think about what will happen if he doesn’t.

(He’s not that strong.)

* * *

The night vision lens is, at least, working. 

That way Ushijima can see that they’re surrounded, outnumbered and outgunned, backs to each other in the midst of chaos.

“I’M OUT!” an agent behind him shouts and Ushijima tosses him his last magazine clip over his shoulder.

However many attackers are advancing towards them still haven’t made it into the circular room itself, courtesy of Iwaizumi’s explosive grenades that held them back a breath or two. 

The field agents created a makeshift barrier around themselves, mostly out of tables and a couple of sofas, but the fact remains that they have no way out and are rapidly running out of ammunition. 

Ushijima’s thoughts are narrowed in focus. One bullet - one kill, with calm precision of his previous experience, not allowing himself to draw parallels, to somehow feel responsible for what is happening. 

Not his decisions this time. Not his unit. Not his m-

_“We’re going in.” Goshiki’s voice over the comm, following Ushijima’s orders._

Ushijima blinks. A bullet whistles by his ear and an agent behind him cries out in pain. The attackers are getting closer. From every direction.

_He’s at the harbor again. He smells the stench of a stale river, overflowing with human waste, and he’s looking out over the docks._

They have no contact with the outside world. They have no idea what is going on.

 _He feels the wrongness of it in his gut, like the rancid water before him. Something he missed, something he should have known…_

_“Target engaged.”_

_No._

They are going to die.

Ushijima’s hands tremble; a wave of memories laps at his awareness, oily and thick and black, and he tries to fight them. He can’t _think_ , can’t process his surroundings; he hears gunfire and explosions and shouts over the comm, but the comms are down, and he knows it’s all in his head, the dead men, screaming and burning, and Ushijima is suffocating-

He can’t _breathe_.

He drops his weapon, whole body now shaking and the first of the attackers steps over the threshold into the circular room. They’re all outfitted in bulletproof vests, gear similar to that of the agents; an army, sent in to wipe them out.

Ushijima’s former unit is dying, in his mind. His colleagues around him right now are dying, too.

A drum of a heartbeat. An inhale, held in his lungs. 

Ushijima looks up, straight on through his own night vision lens, at the masked face of the man who is about to end his life.

And through the fire and the river and the bullets, Ushijima sees Tendou; a glimmer of him standing in the kitchen doorway, smiling in that gentle way and offering breakfast.

Ushijima smiles back, and thinks, _This isn’t so bad._

Right before the attacker pulls the trigger.

* * *

The bullet never comes. 

Instead, loud _clangs_ echo all around the room, as heavy metal doors slam shut on every entrance. One almost falls right on the gunman aiming at Ushijima, but he ducks out of the way in the nick of time, back into the corridor where he came from. 

Lights flicker on, and the agents are effectively locked inside the circular room, separated from whoever was advancing on them.

It’s deafeningly silent without the gunfire. Ushijima’s heart is like thunder in his ears, and he’s not sure whether it’s the quiet after the explosion, or something else entirely.

“Alright, boys and girls!” The voice takes everyone by surprise. The _familiar_ voice, not limited to Ushijima’s earpiece. “ _Whooo_ , I gotta tell ya, that was. not. easy.”

Ushijima’s solid frame is still trembling; he’s on his knees behind the barricade, struggling to ground himself, to bring his thoughts back to this reality.

“Breathe, Wakatoshi,” the same voice tells him then, whispers it in his ear only, and Ushijima inhales, long and slow. “You’re okay.” 

_We’re okay._

From the invisible speakers (no one even knew that the building was fitted with a sound system), Tendou sounds like his normal, overtly cheery self.

“I mean, just. Getting into the main server was kind of tricky in itself, but breaking through all the firewalls… _Boy_ , whoever was in charge here sure as hell didn’t want you guys to survive.” He laughs. Ushijima closes his eyes and lets that laugh fill him up, chase the dark memories away. “But, yeah, hi, hello everyone, my name is Tendou Satori, I’m a cyber tech with the 18th Division, and I will be running this escape. So far only you pretty ones in the round room can hear me, but I have a sense the bad guys will be onto us pretty soon. So I called in for backup.”

“ _Yahoo~_ ” another voice sing-songs through the intercom.

Next to Ushijima, Iwaizumi lowers his gun. “For fuck’s sake,” he mutters under his breath, and Ushijima somehow finds it funny, though he doesn’t have the strength to show it.

“Couldn’t reach the other three techs on such short notice, I’m afraid, but I’m sure Mr. Oikawa and I will be more than capable of coordinating a way out for you guys. At least until they kick me out of the mainframe room.” Tendou snorts.

* * *

When they finally do get out of the building, it’s chaos. 

Backup forces are there, from multiple divisions it seems, surrounding the area. Police sirens wail over the faint hum of hover engines, cars and bikes alike, and it’s swarming with uniforms, weapons, badges… Ushijima squints under the onslaught of lights as he’s tugged by the arm, lead somewhere… To a medical drone.

He’s quiet; he stays still as the drone scans him for injuries, analyses his physical condition. Someone is talking to him, asking questions and Ushijima tries his best to answer; he’s fine, no, he wasn’t the one who got shot, he just… He has trouble finishing his sentences.

He’s not sure what exactly happened. He knows that Tendou and this Oikawa person helped corner the attackers, helped the backup teams engage and clear them out, but the details are a blur, swelling and overlapping like the shapes around him, like the Captain who claps him hard on the shoulder and commends him for getting through what was organized to be a slaughter of their best men.

The medical drone clears him.

Someone, maybe the same person who questioned him, drives Ushijima home, tells him to take the rest of the week off, to get some sleep. To report tomorrow for a briefing. But not before.

And Ushijima shuffles into his apartment. The lights are on, and the smell...

“Hey.”

Ushijima pauses in the living room. Tendou is there, in the kitchen doorframe, and from the smell of it, he added all the wrong spices to the miso soup. 

_Tendou, Tendou…_ Tall and lean and redhaired and not smiling this time, no; he’s looking at Ushijima with those beautiful, round eyes and there’s… something there. Ushijima can’t quite put a finger on it. Concern, maybe. 

“Hey,” Ushijima replies, voice gruff. “Aren’t you… Um. Supposed to be dealing with the fallout?”

A tug at the corner of Tendou’s lips; a hint of a smirk. “Skillfully avoided that part. Figured you might appreciate dinner when you get back.”

Ushijima is exhausted, stained and dirty, and he’s not wearing the gear anymore but the outfit he had underneath is the same, the dark shirt and pants, the combat boots, and he’s pretty sure he’s not doing any favors to the already questionable smell wafting from the kitchen.

“You...” He tries to form coherent words. “You broke into the mainframe hub room. Assaulted an officer. You allowed a tech from another division access to the servers…” He doesn’t know why it matters; it doesn’t. He’s saying it to process, to wrap his mind around what happened, from the bits and pieces of what the Captain told him.

“Well,” Tendou walks over, smirk growing wider. He stands close to Ushijima and now his eyes gleam with mischief. “What else would you expect of a criminal?”

Brown and warm, with a fleck of gold and fiery red, and so very enchanting that Ushijima just wants to drown in that gaze. He wants to _feel_ , badly, wants to touch and be touched, be held, after everything; he _craves_ it. He wants to bury his face in Tendou’s neck and breathe in the mind-reeling, flowery scent...

But he can’t move. Can’t look away.

“You saved my life,” he says. 

“Yes.” Tendou takes one last step towards him until there’s almost no space left between them, and Ushijima’s heart beats out of control.

“Illegally.”

“Only a little bit. Small illegal.” Tendou smiles, and leans in, a fraction. “Not the big kind. The guard will be okay.”

It’s quiet around them. Soft, from the glow of the lamp in the corner. Warm, and Tendou is _so close..._

“Are _you_ okay?” Tendou asks, flattens a palm over Ushijima’s chest.

Ushijima can’t handle it.

“Yes,” he breathes. “I-”

But he doesn’t get to finish. Tendou’s fingers curl into Ushijima’s shirt and he pulls him in, presses their lips firmly together.

It takes a moment for Ushijima to react; for his mind to catch up with the current events and Tendou parts his lips slightly, licks at Ushijima through a smile, before Ushijima kisses back. He wraps his arms around Tendou, brings him into his body as close as it is humanly possible and loses himself in Tendou’s taste, his pliable lips, soft and beautiful… Tendou teases with his tongue; he laughs through the kiss and Ushijima smiles as well, because this is outrageous and stupid and _wonderful; Tendou, Tendou, he’s kissing Tendou-_

Tendou’s fingers twine in Ushijima’s hair. He lets out a hum that Ushijima feels in his chest, god, he never thought he’d feel so _safe_...

* * *

Turns out that Tendou is the loudest in Ushijima’s small, tiled bathroom. 

He laughs while he kisses Ushijima breathless, strips him of his grimy clothes and directs him to the shower, while still fully clothed himself. 

He chatters away, about a documentary he saw the other day, about some obscure political matter, anything and everything that has nothing to do with what happened earlier that day.

And he runs his hands - his elegant, slender hands - over Ushijima’s body under the stream of hot water, setting his skin on fire with curious fingertips and Ushijima can’t focus on what he’s saying. He melts under the attention, overworked brain turning into putty, tension dissipating under Tendou’s touch…

When he’s clean Tendou dries him off, following the path of the towel with his lips, muttering about broad shoulders, muscular chests and carved abs and Ushijima fondly wonders if Tendou ever shuts up.

Tendou shoves him onto the futon in the bedroom, onto the clean sheets and cloud-like pillows, and Ushijima is asleep before he even registers that Tendou left the room.

* * *

Hours later, maybe, he wakes from a dreamless sleep. 

It’s still dark in the bedroom, save for the silver moonlight pouring in through the window, just enough for Ushijima to make out Tendou’s silhouette in the dark. 

Tendou is peaceful, sleeping on his side right next to Ushijima, one arm draped around Ushijima’s waist. It looks like he took a shower as well, because his hair is loose, fanned out over the pillow, falling over his face, messy and curling a little at the ends.

Ushijima takes in the sight, cherishes the serenity for a long moment, before he reaches and smoothes away a strand of red hair, silky under his fingertips, and tucks it behind Tendou’s ear.

Tendou doesn’t even stir.

* * *

Ushijima likes not being alone.


End file.
